


letters to santa

by prettylittlesestras



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies), bechloe - Fandom
Genre: F/F, it's fluff and that's how i like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21965221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlesestras/pseuds/prettylittlesestras
Summary: beca works at the post office, and she and chloe meet when chloe brings her daughter, addy, to mail her letters to santa.
Relationships: Bechloe, Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 16
Kudos: 139





	letters to santa

**Author's Note:**

> look, i need to warn you, if you believe in santa please do not read this.
> 
> this fic was a pitchmas gift for tumblr user pindaleng. merry christmas!

Beca doesn’t _hate_ Christmas. Can anyone truly hate Christmas? She’s no Scrooge, but her job made it...hard to love. She’d spent nearly every day of the last six years in the back of the Fifth Street Post Office sorting packages and filing mail into various P.O. Boxes. It’s certainly not what she imagined for her life post-college. She went to college, got her four-year degree, and then, low and behold, couldn’t find a job in her field after graduation. Okay, so _maybe_ getting an audio production degree in this economic climate wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was her passion and it’s what she’s always wanted to do. And Beca Mitchell is nothing if not stubborn, so here we are, sorting through what seems like millions of Black Friday online orders.

It’s not all bad though. She’s developed a sort of system, and she’s thankful for a job where she can put her earbuds in and tune out the world for a while, getting her work done while avoiding almost all socialization. Completely in the zone in her own little corner of the Post Office, Beca is wildly unaware of anything going on around her. 

“Mitchell?”

Beca thought she heard a muffled shout over the sound of the music in her ears but paid it no attention, her coworkers almost never bothering her. She really did like most of them, but they knew after the first few months of working with her that she really shouldn’t be bothered when her earbuds are in.

“Mitchell!”

Beca jumped, startled, the voice sounding as if it came from right behind her head. She removed both of her earbuds and turned around swiftly, tucking them into her hoodie, Mr. Griffith never expressing his distaste for her using them at work but _technically_ never telling her she could either.

“I want you on window this year. At least until the new year.” Mr. Griffith was very matter-of-fact with his request. Or was it really a request? More of an order.

“Are you really sure you want that, Mr. Griffith? I don’t think I’ve worked the window since my training except for the one day Annette called out sick with Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease.” Beca cringed as the memory flashed through her mind, remembering spending half the day chasing down packages and handing them out at the window and the other half cloroxing, lysoling, and wiping down the window, determined not to catch whatever Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease actually was.

He started walking away, not wanting to hear any of Beca’s reservations about working at the window. “Well, Annette broke her ankle, and you know this place like the back of your hand. You’re the right one for the job. You start tomorrow.”

Beca put one of her earbuds back into her ear. As she was putting the other back into her ear, she heard Mr. Griffith shout from his office, “Oh, and when you’re working the window, keep those ear monstrosities out of your ears. Those are for the back room only.” She shook her head and put the other back in, laughing to herself after hearing the smile in his voice. He always has loved to give her a hard time. 

She spent the rest of the day savoring her last day in the back and walked the two blocks walk home in deep thought. She didn’t even notice the bell-ringer outside of her apartment building until she narrowly avoided bumping into him. She apologized profusely, emptied the four dollars and thirty seven cents that she had in her jacket pocket into his donation bucket, and jogged the three flights of stairs up to her apartment. She was worried about the next day; worried about dealing with rude customers, worried about embarrassing herself by not knowing how to work the computer, but, probably most of all, worried about disappointing her boss. Mr. Griffith is the only man she’s been close with in a father-like way (or at all) since her dad left however many years ago it’s been now. He kind of took her under his wing and has a sort of soft spot for her for whatever reason. And if she’s being honest, she’s got one for him too. If he thinks she can do it, she guessed she’d get through it somehow. He’d just have to deal with the fact that she’d be grumpy about it.

* * *

The sun set and rose, and, once again, it was morning, Beca’s least favorite part of the day. She dragged herself to the coffee pot, poured herself a cup, and breathed in the warm steam rising from the cup before taking a long sip. She felt the hot liquid travel from her mouth all the way down her body, warming her from the inside, out. She sat back into the couch and looked out the window and out across the city, the sun just beginning to peak over some of the shorter buildings. Her third floor apartment doesn’t exactly give her the greatest view of the city skyline, but it’s one of the things she loves most about her apartment.

When she mustered up enough caffeine-induced energy to get up from the couch, she forced herself to get ready and face the day. It was colder than normal, so she all but ran to work. She really should’ve driven, but she thought it seemed like such a short distance that the cold wouldn’t really affect her. She was wrong. As usual.

She stopped outside of the Post Office, staring up at the large, mid-nineteenth century building. _Here goes nothing, I guess,_ she thought as she struggled to open the enormous glass door.

The morning was, in a word, bad. The computer wouldn’t even turn on for the first fifteen minutes after opening, so the line was backed up to the door before the first customer was ever helped. The week after Thanksgiving was always bad, but with the increased level of online orders for Black Friday and Cyber Monday, the Wednesday morning after Thanksgiving was no joke. 

Beca sat in the breakroom for lunch with her earbuds in, thanking all that is holy that she had an entire hour to herself and the takeout container of leftover Chinese food that she brought from home. Her feet ached, and she’d had more interaction with the public in the five hours since her shift began than she usually would have in a month, but it hadn’t been completely terrible. She’d gotten the hang of the system at the front and after the first hour, there had been a surprisingly low number of issues arise.

As the clock above the building struck 2 o’clock, Beca sighed, threw away her to-go container, and headed back to relieve Jerry, the postal worker she had stolen from the back to work the front while she was taking her lunch break. The flow of customers was much less in the hours after lunch until about the time when school released for the day. The line leading to the window got longer and longer as the hours passed, and Beca started to near her wit’s end. The level of stress she’d been under was unmatched with any other workday she’d endured in the past six years.

* * *

Soon enough, it’s 4:00 PM, and she’s almost ready to call it quits an hour before closing when a beautiful, smiling redhead and a miniature, child-version of the woman walk up to the window.

“Good afternoon, what can I help you with?” Beca asks as she locks eyes with the woman, unable to look away. That is, until it’s the child who answers her question. 

“We’re here to mail my letter to Santa!” the child said, bursting at the seams with excitement. Beca looks down and sees a small green envelope in the girl’s hand.

“Well lucky for you, We have a special mailbox right here just for letters to Santa.” Beca reaches behind the counter and pulls out a beautifully decorated red and green box with a mail slot on the front and places it on the counter. “Can I see your letter?”

The girl looks reluctant, but hands it to Beca anyway. Becca looks down at the letter, scanning for a return address to find the child’s name. Fortunately, it’s listed in the top left corner. Addison Savannah Beale, 122 Barden Avenue.

“So, Miss Addison, what are you asking Santa for this year?” Beca asks as she deposits the girl’s letter into the mailbox. 

“Well, since I’m seven years old now, I was hoping I could get some roller skates and learn how to skate. Seven is so old, and I know I’ll be able to do it. I was also hoping for a big chocolate bar, like as big as my head! I love chocolate, and…” 

While Addison continues to talk about chocolate and toys and Santa, her mom makes eye contact again with Beca and mouths _I’m sorry_ , apparently not at all surprised by her daughter’s talkativeness.

“Okay, Addy, I think it’s time to let this nice lady get back to her job. There’s someone waiting behind us,” Addison’s mother says, trying her best to hurry her daughter along.

“Okay, just one more thing.” Addison stands up on her tiptoes and leans as close to Beca as she can, and Beca leaned closer to the edge of the counter. “You can just call me Addy. I only put _Addison Savannah Beale_ ,” (she says it as if it pains her), “so Santa would know exactly who it came from. He’s really smart, so he probably knows, but I just wanted to make sure.”

Beca can’t help but smile, the little girl’s cuteness way too powerful. “Okay, Addy, I’ll see you later. I’ll make sure your letter gets delivered to Santa safe and sound.” The pair of redheads start to walk away when the mother turns back around and sticks out her hand while saying, “I’m Chloe by the way. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again.” Beca shakes the woman’s hand, and it’s warm to the touch. It warms her body; it’s similar to the way the coffee had done earlier in the day, but this time it’s from the outside, in. 

Beca stumbles over her words, the woman’s touch leaving her dumbfounded for some reason. “Okay, yeah. Hopefully I’ll see you around. I mean like the both of you. Hopefully I’ll see you and Addy around.” Chloe just smiles and takes Addy’s hand as they head out the door of the building. Beca has to take a moment to gain her composure after thoroughly embarrassing herself.

The last hour of the day passes with ease, her interaction with Addy and Chloe making Beca’s day slightly more bearable. Chloe and Addy came in on Thursday and Friday as well, Addy having a new letter to mail to Santa each day. They developed a sort of schedule. They came in every single week day leading up to Christmas at almost exactly 4:00 PM on the dot, and Addy had another letter each and every day (and three on Mondays: one for Monday and two to make up for missing Saturday and Sunday).

Beca started to look forward to seeing Chloe and Addy every day, their visit being the little bright spot that helped her get through the days of lost packages and angry customers. Almost every other moment in the day was dreadful for Beca, but seeing them at the end of the day and getting another Santa letter from Addy was something she could look forward to at least. One Thursday evening while grocery shopping, Beca picked up some Christmas stickers she saw in the checkout line at the grocery store. The next day, she gave Addy the stickers and some markers she had behind the counter, and the look on her face was one of pure joy. She adorned the envelope with snowmen and elves and penguins and little red hearts. 

Every day on window duty isn’t as busy as her first few were. Some days during Chloe and Addy’s visit, they’re the only three people inside the Post Office at all. Those days are Beca’s favorite. Addy sits on a stool at one of the tables that’s set up for people to address their letters and packages. She uses the ever-growing collection of stickers, markers, tape, and ribbon from behind Beca’s workstation to decorate her letter to Santa, and Chloe stands at the window with Beca. They talk about anything and everything, and Beca begins to have a feeling that they’re becoming real friends, not just acquaintances who see each other every now and then. She also gets a different feeling that makes her wish there was a mistletoe hanging on the ceiling between the two of them, but she’d never jeopardize the one thing that’s helping her get through the holiday season for some little crush. Besides, Chloe could be married for all she knows. She’s never seen a wedding ring, but she still doesn’t know the story of how things are between her and Addy’s dad.

Things carried on as expected until the Thursday before Christmas. Monday through Wednesday had been just as Beca expected. Chloe and Addy breezed through the door at 4:00 PM sharp on all three days, cards in hand. They spent at least thirty minutes there, Addy putting the finishing touches on her envelopes and letters, and Chloe and Beca talking about their jobs, how their week was going, and the upcoming holiday.

When 4:45 PM on Thursday rolled around and she hadn't seen them, Beca began to get concerned. Chloe hadn’t mentioned them not coming back, and they’d never been this late before. By closing time, Beca just decided to consider it a fluke, and although she was slightly concerned because of the abrupt interruption in their unspoken schedule, she let it go. When Friday afternoon came and went with no visit from Addy and Chloe, worry set in. She knew Chloe had been sick the past few days, and she wondered if Chloe had gotten too sick to bring Addy and her daily letters.

Typically, when it got closer to Christmas, parents would come back to the Post Office to pick up the letters that their children had written to Santa to get a better idea of what to get for their kids. Chloe hadn’t done that though. Beca guessed it was because Addy has been _very_ vocal. About literally everything including what she wants from Santa. She dug through the box to find a couple of Addy’s letters. It didn’t take long seeing as approximately 83.5% of the letters in the mailbox of Santa letters were from Addy. Beca pulled out a couple to check the return address. 122 Barden Avenue. Just like she remembered. 

She flipped one of the letters over in her hand a few times. She slipped her finger under the edge of the seal and popped it open. She felt slightly guilty, but she was curious as to what exactly the letters all said. She opened a few of them, and, surprisingly, they all said the exact same thing. 

_Dear Santa, this is Addison Savannah Beale, but you can call me Addy. For Christmas this year, I want a pair of purple and lime green roller skates. I know my mama said I was too little for them last year, but I’m seven now, and I’m really good at riding my scooter, so I know I can do it. I really want a chocolate bar too. A HUGE one like as big as my head. Or bigger! The last thing I want is something to make my mama happy. It’s just the two of us most of the time, and sometimes she gets sad, and I really want to make her happy for Christmas. Thank you, Santa. I love you very much! Love, Addy Beale_

Beca felt a strange tug somewhere deep inside her chest after reading a few of the identical letters. _This must be how to Grinch felt when his heart grew three sizes_ , she thought and then rolled her eyes at her own brain for thinking such a sappy thought. She stuffed the letters in her jacket pocket and headed out the door for the day. 

She walked the two blocks home and got immediately in her car. She drove straight to the store and bought a couple of things and then went through the drive through at her favorite Chinese restaurant. When she had everything she needed, she entered 122 Barden Avenue into the GPS on her phone, and she was on her way.

When she pulled up outside of the house, she just sat and looked at it for a moment. It was a small, white house with a red front door and black shutters. It was cozy and homey and exactly like somewhere Chloe and Addy would live. She took a deep breath, gathered her things in her arms, and walked to the front door. She knocked, and she could hear the tapping of little feet on the other side of the door. A tiny redheaded girl opened the door and screamed “Miss Beca!”

Beca kneeled down and gave Addy a hug and handed her the present she’d brought. “Can I open it now, Mama?” Addy asked of her mom. She pushed the door open wider, and Beca looked in to see Chloe sitting on the couch with a guy who looked to be in his early thirties. Beca stood in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed, the Egg Drop soup she’d brought for Chloe burning her left hand. She could swear she could feel the thorns on the bouquet of white roses in her right hand stabbing her fingers, but she knew they’d been clipped off. 

“I’m just going to leave this stuff with you, Chloe. I hadn’t seen you guys in a couple of days, and I was afraid you’d come down with something. I’ll let you guys get back to it, though.” Beca sat the flowers and the soup on the table to the left of the entrance and turned to leave, feeling embarrassed about thinking her relationship with Chloe could ever be anything other than a friendship. Embarrassed that she thought that she could be the thing that might make Chloe happy this Christmas. She got halfway down the driveway to her car when she heard “Beca! Wait!” coming from the house. She turned to see Chloe jogging out the door to meet her in the driveway. 

“You did all that? For us?” Chloe looked as surprised and happy as she’d ever seen her.

“Of course. I hadn’t seen you guys and I was getting worried. I know you’ve had a bad cough for the last week, so I was worried you might’ve gotten sick. You should get back in there though. Your...boyfriend is probably wondering what’s keeping you.” Beca felt awkward and just wanted to go home. Clearly Chloe had found someone to make her happy. Maybe Santa came early this year. 

“Bec, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. We had some errands to run for Christmas these past two days, and we didn’t get to make it by the Post Office. We did put the letters in our mailbox though. You know Addy wouldn’t let a day go by without mailing one.” They both share a knowing laugh. “And by the way, that guy in there is Addy’s dad. We’ve been split up since Addy was eleven months old. She doesn’t see him much, but he does come over the weekend before Christmas every year to give her her gifts. I really don’t think he’s very concerned with why I’m outside with a beautiful girl who brought me flowers and soup. I know for a fact he couldn’t care less.”

Chloe smiles and steps closer to Beca. Beca grins right back at her and closes the gap between them, their lips touching and her body warming all over again just like the first time they shook hands. She was as warm as she would’ve been on a hot summer day despite the falling snow. Chloe smiles and nuzzles herself into the crook of Beca’s neck, regardless of the fact that she’s six inches taller than the brunette. 

“Oh by the way, don’t let Addy open her gift until Christmas. It’s a helmet and knee pads to go with her roller skates.” Chloe stands up straight and laughs. “We better hope Santa got the memo then, I guess.” 

“Well, Chlo, I don’t know how he could mess this one up. I think he got more than enough reminders,” Beca says, and they both laugh together. Chloe takes Beca’s hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “Thanks for this. For all of it. And all you’ve done these past few weeks. You really made Addy’s Christmas special. And mine.”

Beca has that heart-growing-three-sizes feeling again, but she swallows hard and tries to ignore it. “You guys kinda made me not hate my job and also Christmas this year which means I should be the one thanking you. So thanks.” Beca squeezes Chloe’s hand this time. 

“I guess maybe we’re good for each other, then. Wanna come over on Christmas day to see Addy open her present?” Chloe asks as if Beca’s answer would be anything other than yes.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Beca says as she walks backwards on the way to her car. “Now get in there and let Addy finish opening the presents from her dad.”

“See you soon?”

“Can’t wait.”


End file.
